


outside the borders of time

by yeastlings



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst with a Happy Ending, Chance Meetings, Domestic Fluff, Fade to Black, Food, Gardens & Gardening, Getting Together, Hurt Hinata Shouyou, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Miya Atsumu Being an Idiot, Photography, Pining Miya Atsumu, coming home, endings and beginnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:35:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25189564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeastlings/pseuds/yeastlings
Summary: "The first time that Hinata met Atsumu was at the Spring High when Hinata was fifteen years old and Atsumu was sixteen. Atsumu had pointed at him from across the net and promised to toss to him one day. The second time that Hinata met Atsumu was when Hinata was eighteen years old and Atsumu was twenty-two."Hinata slips through time and Atsumu waits. He's waited, been waiting, will always wait, because he's steady.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 24
Kudos: 202





	outside the borders of time

**Author's Note:**

> If you like background music while you read, I made a playlist: [click here!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1Bhv6kFcesCZA92Je3AvPC?si=gla9OFC6RbuV6v64RPkkig) I recommend listening to it in order.

It had been a while since the last time it happened, so Hinata didn’t notice the signs until it was too late.

“Uh, Atsumu-san?” he called out, staring at his hand which was slowly fading away.

Atsumu stuck his head out of the bathroom, a towel draped over his shoulders to catch the droplets from his still-damp hair. “What’s—oh, shit!”

He sprinted to the closet and grabbed the backpack that he and Hinata kept prepared for these situations, then stuffed it into Hinata’s remaining corporeal hand—and just in time, too, because the next moment Hinata’s vision blurred and he felt an all-too-familiar drop in his stomach like he was plummeting into a rollercoaster’s dive.

His and Atsumu’s bedroom dissolved into darkness, only to be replaced the next second with glaring sunlight and the blast of carhorns. Hinata was sprawled out behind a bush; he didn’t know where he was, and more problematically, he didn’t know _when_ he was. He got to his feet and peered around. A row of identical bushes stretched out on either side of him. Across from them stood a row of trees whose hanging leaves and branches provided him cover from the grassy expanse that lay beyond. He caught glimpses of people strolling past and heard the sound of children’s laughter. He was at a park, in which case it was a good thing that he’d landed somewhere hidden, or else people would have screamed to see a half-dressed person materializing from nowhere.

At least he’d already put on shorts when this bout of time traveling hit him. Hinata dug through the backpack Atsumu had handed him and found an Inarizaki VBC T-shirt that smelled like the muted detergent Atsumu preferred. He pulled it on and sniffed deeply. He didn’t remember putting this in the emergency bag, so it must have been Atsumu. The thought of him adding something that would give Hinata comfort made Hinata’s throat constrict. He already missed him. Today was the first time in a while that their free days had coincided, too.

Hinata took stock of the other contents in the bag before slinging it over his shoulder and standing up. There was enough money for two nights’ in a hotel room and meals to last—the longest he’d ever been gone—and printed maps of Japan’s major cities. With any luck, this bout of displacement would only last for several hours, and he would be reunited with Atsumu soon. Until then, he had to keep himself safe.

*

The first time that Hinata met Atsumu was at the Spring High when Hinata was fifteen years old and Atsumu was sixteen. Atsumu had pointed at him from across the net and promised to toss to him one day.

The second time that Hinata met Atsumu was when Hinata was eighteen years old and Atsumu was twenty-two. He blacked out and woke up to find himself lying in Atsumu’s bed, in Atsumu’s childhood home in Hyogo. Atsumu was dabbing his forehead with a damp cloth, shockingly calm about the fact that a virtual stranger had crash landed in his bedroom.

“Miya-san?” Hinata whispered.

Atsumu smiled lopsidedly. He looked older than when Hinata had seen him on the orange court, older even than in the recording of a Black Jackal game that Kageyama had shown Hinata. The wildness that had thrilled Hinata so much was tempered, and his hands were gentle as he helped Hinata sit up and drink some water.

“Hey, Shouyou-kun,” he said. “Been a long time.”

Hinata gulped down the water, too disoriented to do anything else. He handed the empty glass back to Atsumu and asked, “How come? How come you aren’t surprised?”

“Oh, I’m plenty surprised. Gave me a real shock when you just plopped outta nowhere and passed out on my floor. But you could say I’ve been expectin’ this for a while now.”

Hinata frowned. “This?”

“To see ya again. D’ya know how long you’ve got this time?” 

Hinata had so many questions of his own. He was still new to the time traveling, even though it had been three years since it started. Something about the fever, the doctors had told Takeda. It was like his insides had been scrambled around too much, so there was nothing solid to ground him in one place, one time.

Tears burned hot against the backs of his hands. Hinata sniffled and tried to hold it in—he didn’t want to cry in front of Atsumu, especially not this Atsumu who looked so grown up and assured—but he couldn’t. If he had to meet Atsumu again, why did it have to be like this? The MSBY Black Jackal jacket hung from the back of Atsumu’s door, a reminder that Atsumu had found his place in volleyball while Hinata could no longer stand on a court.

“Miya-san,” he said again, voice cracking. “I—“

“Hey, hey.” For the first time, there was an edge of panic to Atsumu’s voice. “It’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. Uh, I mean. You’re not hurt anywhere, are ya?”

It was sweet how worried he sounded. It made Hinata laugh through his tears. “No, I’m not hurt. Miya-san—”

“You can just call me Atsumu.”

“Okay, Atsumu-san. How come you’re being so nice to me? I mean, even if you’re not surprised, we’re kind of strangers, aren’t we?”

At that, Atsumu looked embarrassed. “Uh, well. Do we gotta be best friends for me to worry ‘bout someone who just crash landed outta nowhere? And are ya gonna even explain that to me? ‘Cause no offense, but you look kinda scrawny for someone who’s twenty-one. Are ya sick?”

“I guess you could say that I’m sick. And I’m not twenty-one, I’m eighteen.”

“The fuck?”

Hinata bunched the blankets in his hands. They were red, soft and worn from years of use. He realized that this was the first time that he’d felt safe since he started waking up to find himself in a completely different place and time. Even if he didn’t know where he was, or when he was, or even why Atsumu was taking care of him, there was something comforting about all of this. Like he could trust it, and be held steady in it.

He looked up at Atsumu, who sat by the bedside with his arms crossed and brows furrowed. Waiting. “If I tell you, will you promise to believe me?”

Instead of promising right away or saying that he couldn’t do so without knowing what Hinata had in store, Atsumu thought. He closed his eyes, like he needed to shut out all sensations in order to process his thoughts properly.

Then he opened them again and said, “Can’t say I won’t be kinda skeptical at first, ‘cause I dunno what rational explanation there is for what’s happenin’ right now. But I promise that I’ll listen and try to understand. That good enough?”

Hinata nodded, dashing away the tears that had welled up in his eyes again. “Yes, that’s good enough.”

*

To Hinata’s relief, he was in Osaka. It had been home long enough that he could find his way around without a map.

Hinata checked which cross streets he stood at, and then headed for the nearest net cafe. It was better to while the hours away in a hotel room where he could stretch, exercise, and meditate until his body decided to send him back home, but net cafes were cheaper and he wouldn’t be scrutinized by the hotel concierge for his disheveled state and odd habits. He would just stay alert for the rising temperature and numbness in his fingers and toes that signaled an oncoming bout of time travelling, so he could hurry to the privacy of a bathroom or shower stall.

The first thing Hinata did once he settled into his cubicle at the net cafe was check the date: November 2014. Ten years into the past, and before he’d crash landed in Atsumu’s bedroom and told him about the rare disorder that had abruptly ended his volleyball career.

On the rare occasions that Hinata landed in a time where he and Atsumu were already together, there was the option of staying with him—though Hinata didn’t take that option often. It was too jarring to see an Atsumu he didn’t know yet, or who seemed like a faded memory next to the one who fell asleep beside Hinata every night. Not to mention, two of Hinata under the same roof would try anyone’s patience, including his own.

Hinata browsed the Internet and forced himself to eat something from the cafe’s menu, thinking sadly about the ham-and-pepper omelette that he’d planned on making for his and Atsumu’s breakfast. Thinking about Atsumu led him to the MSBY Black Jackal website, where he smiled at the incongruency of seeing Atsumu wearing the number 13 jersey instead of number 1. His captaincy was a few months’ old now, but Hinata sometimes caught him staring at the jersey as he folded the laundry, a look of awe on his face. Homesickness squeezed his chest again.

“Atsumu-san, I miss you,” he sighed.

What was Atsumu doing right now? Probably wearing a groove in the living room’s flooring as he paced and fretted about Hinata. Knowing him, he hadn’t bothered to make something for himself to eat. Hinata hoped he would remember to do so, especially if Hinata was going to be gone for more than a day. Was there enough food in the refrigerator for him? At least there was a conbini nearby that carried a line of ready-made bento that Atsumu actually deigned to eat.

Hinata found himself clicking on the Black Jackal calendar of events. His eyes widened when he saw that there was a match against EJP Raizen scheduled for that evening. And of all the things, it was Atsumu’s first game as the Jackal’s main setter. Hinata had watched a recording of that game, much to Atsumu’s chagrin, but here was the chance to see it in person. To see Atsumu in person, even if from a distance.

Hinata counted how much money he had left, a little guilty because Atsumu would kill him if he found out that he’d prioritized seeing him over staying sheltered, and clicked on the link to buy tickets.

*

As time went on, and with Takeda and Ukai’s steady support, Hinata came to accept that time traveling was now a permanent part of his life. He would never be able to play in a volleyball tournament again, but he could at least manage the other parts of living. Takeda said that was a gift, and Hinata tried to look grateful instead of resentful.

It was hard when everything still hurt. Every time he talked to his friends from Karasuno, every time he saw the news about Kageyama or Ushijima, every time Yamaguchi convinced him to play a casual game and he felt the slap of leather against his palm, knew that he could still do it, could still fly—it carved a hollowness inside him so big that only a scream could fill it. When he disappeared in the middle of a game and reappeared two days later with a fever because he hadn’t managed to find shelter, the doctor advised him to avoid intense physical exertion.

“We still don’t fully understand this condition, but it’s safe to say that any disruption to your body’s status quo could very likely make it flare up.”

“What counts as a ‘disruption’ to my status quo?” Hinata asked.

“Rising body temperature, agitation, stress—anything that causes intense emotion. In short, you’re going to have to manage your body and emotions very carefully.”

Hinata stared at her. “So you’re telling me I can only do boring things.”

The doctor sighed and swiveled away from Hinata, clearly brushing off his frustration. “No. I’m telling you that you need to be more circumspect.”

Moving somewhere new after graduation definitely counted as disturbing his status quo, so while friends went to college and to the pro leagues, Hinata stayed in Miyagi and worked odd jobs at Shimada Mart and Takinoue Electronics. It was as boring as he’d feared, but nobody there asked him questions about his strange disappearances.

One day, while organizing the storage room in Shimada Mart, he unearthed the poster that Yachi had made to raise money for their first summer training camp. He traced the outline of himself arched midair, dust collecting on his fingertip. To think, this was before he’d even been able to open his eyes during the freak quick. He hadn’t been able to see the view at the top, but for all his dissatisfaction, he’d been happy.

The next time Yachi convinced him to visit her in Tokyo, he asked if he could borrow one of her old cameras.

He had no clear goals in the beginning; he just liked the camera’s comforting weight around his neck. The first time that he time travelled while taking pictures, he held onto the camera like a lifeline and found that it was easier not to pass out once he’d landed. He ended up near Shinzen High, the same summer that Yachi had taken the picture of him flying.

There was no way he could let himself be seen, especially since it was before the disorder had gripped his life, so he wandered around the area taking pictures of locals going about their day and tourists ogling the sights and sounds. An entire world had existed outside of Shinzen High that summer, but he hadn’t noticed or cared. Hindsight was twenty-twenty.

When Hinata finally got back to his proper timeline, he printed some of the photos he’d taken, careful to leave out details like dates or news headlines, and submitted it to a local magazine that was looking for a part-time photographer. In short order, he had an interview and then a job. Everyone congratulated him. Hinata smiled, and reminded himself that there was still an entire world waiting for him outside.

*

Atsumu never paid attention to the crowds at a game unless they irritated him, but Hinata wore a hat and sunglasses anyway. Even if Atsumu didn’t consciously look for him, his hair was sure to make him stand out. He bought the hat and sunglasses from a shop near the stadium. The clerk rang him up with a curious look but didn’t say anything.

The inside of the stadium smelled like salonpas. Hinata breathed it in deeply. At home, in his proper time, he went to watch Atsumu’s games whenever he had time. He used to miss being on the court so fiercely that it made it difficult for him to watch Atsumu’s games in person. Atsumu had sulked, they’d fought and made up, and Hinata had woken up beside Atsumu the next morning and known that there was something else he held dearest now.

These days he felt only pride and affection as he watched Atsumu stand tall on the court. It didn’t remind him of the past because for all that the net and the ball and even the players were familiar, they weren’t the same. Even Atsumu’s practice of counting his steps before serving wasn’t the same anymore; now, nobody knew what kind of serve he would use until the ball was on the other side of the court, not even Hinata.

This was before that time, though. Moreover, it was Atsumu’s first game as the Jackal’s main setter. Hinata smiled as he settled into his seat. Would he be nervous? He’d seemed like it in the recording, even though he insisted that it was excitement and not nerves. Hinata wished that he had his camera, so he could capture this time that was lost to him.

When the players walked onto the court, Hinata searched for Atsumu and was startled upon spotting him. The recordings he’d watched hadn’t captured how young Atsumu looked. Or maybe they couldn’t—how could video capture the line of his mouth, pressed more tightly than it usually was? Or how his hair lay too flat and heavy against his scalp because he hadn’t figured out how to sweep his hair back in the style that he did with ease these days? Hinata’s heart ached for this Atsumu, whom he hadn’t gotten a chance to know. He made sure to cheer extra loudly when Atsumu’s name was called, and smiled to see his shoulders lift with more confidence.

It didn’t help him win the game, in the end. Three sets to two, and EJP Raizen walked away with a narrow margin gained in large part from Atsumu’s missed serves and off-target tosses. Nobody on the Black Jackal team seemed frustrated with him, though; in fact, the only person who seemed angry was Atsumu himself, who sat on the bench with his head bowed and a towel draped over it.

“Poor Atsumu-san,” Hinata murmured. It wasn’t like him to be nervous, even when it was his first time doing something, but this was V.1 after all. Even Atsumu could be overwhelmed by that.

He needed to return to the net cafe or check into a hotel room. Out here in the open, there was nowhere to hide if he started to travel. Hinata reluctantly followed the crowd as they filed down the stairs and towards the exit, but when he got to the ground level, he found himself lingering at the dividers separating the audience from the court. Colorful ads decorated the dividers, some of them advertising products that had long ago lost their relevance. On the opposite side of the court, Atsumu still sat on the bench. Hinata smiled. Now he was just sulking. He wished he could ruffle his hair, pull him off the bench and shove him toward the locker rooms and tell him to get over himself.

He was about to leave when Atsumu stood up, pulling the towel off his head. He looked up—and right at where Hinata stood, clearly visible now that most of the crowd had thinned out. Their eyes locked. Hinata saw Atsumu’s widen in recognition.

“Shit,” he muttered, pulling the hat down low and turning away. 

Before he could run away, Atsumu had sprinted across the court. The dividers rattled as he grabbed onto the edge of them, leaning over breathlessly and saying, “Shouyou-kun? It’s really you, isn’t it?”

Hinata’s grip tightened on the hat’s brim. Walk away. He needed to walk away. But there was so much hope in Atsumu’s voice, and knowing him, he would chase Hinata down even if Hinata tried to escape.

He took the cap off and turned to face Atsumu. Atsumu’s face was flushed and his hair stuck to his neck and forehead with sweat. His knuckles were white where he clutched onto the dividers. Despite his consternation at being caught, the only emotion that Hinata could hold onto was an affection so overwhelming that it squeezed his chest tight.

“Hello, Atsumu-san. Long time no see.”

*

Hinata and Atsumu stood on the same court again when Hinata was twenty-two and Atsumu twenty-three. Atsumu was wearing his MSBY Black Jackal jersey and Hinata was dressed in a button-up shirt, jeans, and worn-down sneakers not at all suited for running and jumping on the court’s slick surface.

Of course, that didn’t matter because he wasn’t there to play. He’d been hired to take promotional photos of the Black Jackals for the upcoming league season. One of the editors he did regular work for knew someone on MSBY’s PR team and had recommended Hinata for the job because “You used to play volleyball in high school, right, Hinata-kun? You’ll be a perfect fit.”

Hinata had his hesitations, but he’d accepted the job in the end. It had been four years since he’d traveled to the future and Atsumu’s bedroom, and in all that time he’d watched Atsumu’s games on TV and computer screens with a knot in his chest because the memory was something that existed only to him. When Atsumu made eye contact with him in MSBY’s gym, though, he knew that he wasn’t alone anymore.

“Shouyou-kun!” Atsumu called out, jogging over to him. “What’re you doin’ here? What’s with the camera? Whoa, wait, are you the photographer? You do photography now?”

Hinata laughed. Atsumu had looked so much older and wiser as he comforted eighteen-year-old Hinata, but right now he reminded Hinata of how he’d been in high school: loud, eager, unable to hide or hold back anything he felt.

Atsumu frowned. “Did I say somethin’ funny?”

Hinata poked his forehead. “If you keep frowning like that, you’re going to wrinkle.” Even though they weren’t friends, were barely even acquaintances, he felt emboldened to do something so familiar because now they both shared the memory of Atsumu stroking his hair and telling him that he would listen to everything.

Atsumu batted his hand away, face flushing. “I’m not gonna! And you still haven’t answered my questions.”

“You asked me so many, how am I supposed to remember all of them?”

“Fine,” Atsumu huffed. “I’ll start over. What’re you doin’ here?”

“Taking promotional photos for your team, obviously.”

“How long have you been doin’ photography?”

“Hmm, about three years now? I usually do landscape, but I got recommended for this job because I used to play volleyball.”

They both fell silent for a moment, the “used to” hanging in the air between them. Hinata suddenly regretted taking this job. He could deal with not being on the court, he could deal with only being able to document other people’s flight, but he couldn’t deal with Atsumu’s pity. The camera around his neck felt like an anchor pinning him to the ground.

“I should get going,” he said hurriedly. “I’ve got to get set up—”

“Why didn’t ya come see me before this?”

Hinata stopped backing away. “What?”

Atsumu’s mouth twisted and he turned to look at some distant spot on the wall. “Y’know…’Cause we’ve already met, right? Obviously you couldn’t see me right away ‘cause I didn’t find out ’til I was twenty-two, but I’m twenty-three now so I know. About, you know. The time travelling.”

“Atsumu-san, that was kind of convoluted.”

“Whatever!” Atsumu still refused to look at him. “The point is that it’s been a whole year and ya only came now ‘cause of your job!”

Oh. Hinata reached out and laid a hand on Atsumu’s wrist. “I didn’t know you wanted me to come,” he said softly.

“The hell? Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, it’s not like you asked for me to crash into your room, or to tell you about my problems! I thought you’d be freaked out and not want to deal with it.”

“When’d I say that?” Atsumu snapped, finally making eye contact again.

Hinata’s hackles rose. “Oh, honestly. Why are you getting mad at _me_?”

“I’m not—”

“Atsumu,” his captain yelled from the court, “get over here and let the poor guy do his job!”

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’,” Atsumu called over his shoulder. He turned back to Hinata. “You. Don’t go anywhere after this. You still gotta answer my question.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Hinata yelled, too flustered to come up with a better comeback. Atsumu waved a dismissive hand as he jogged away. Hinata watched his back, heart beating fast, and decided that this time, at least, he would try to stick around.

*

Over slices of quiche and cups of coffee that were more cream than coffee, Atsumu studied Hinata. Hinata could tell that he’d already realized that Hinata was much older than he should have been, but he didn’t look perturbed so much as bewildered and curious, like Hinata was a new volleyball play he hadn’t figured out yet.

Hinata sipped his coffee, too anxious to really taste it. Atsumu—his Atsumu—had never told him about this meeting. Either he’d forgotten or it hadn’t happened, which meant that Hinata might be irrevocably altering the course of events from this point onwards. He tried to remember if the scientists and doctors who routinely checked up on him had ever mentioned anything like this happening to other people with the same condition.

Atsumu finally broke the silence. “So…how’ve you been, Shouyou-kun?” He stumbled over the suffix. The gears in his head were probably churning, trying to figure out if he should speak formally to Hinata or if he should even acknowledge the discrepancy in Hinata’s age in the first place.

“Fine, just fine,” Hinata mumbled. He really hadn’t thought this through. Atsumu was going to kill him when he got home. That is, if everything was still the same. Hinata’s heart was beating too quickly.

“That’s good. Um. What have you been up to?”

“…stuff.”

“Oh, yeah. Me too. Obviously I’m playin’ in V.1. Not that I’m braggin’ about it or anythin’! I mean, you saw me today. I sucked.”

A shadow fell over his expression. Hinata couldn’t help softening a little. “It was your first game as the main setter. Anyone would have been nervous. What matters is that you’ll get to stand on the court again, so next time win.”

Atsumu poked at his rhubarb and spinach quiche. He’d honed in on the sign advertising that it was a limited-time special, and Hinata had refrained from telling him that he didn’t even like rhubarb. “I wasn’t nervous.”

“Okay, Atsumu-san.”

“I wasn’t! Not about the game, anyway. I just felt…off. Like I couldn’t really get my bearings.”

“That does tend to happen when you’re nervous.”

“But I wasn’t!” He looked so outraged that Hinata had to stifle his laughter. “It just felt weird not havin’ Samu or Aran-kun with me, and I kept wondering ‘What am doin’ here? Where’s this all gonna go?’”

Hinata tilted his head. He knew Atsumu could fall into bouts of depression and uncertainty, but it was always because he was afraid that he wouldn’t be able to keep doing what he wanted. Not once had he mentioned doubting what it was that he wanted.

He chose his words carefully, wary of nudging Atsumu one way or the other. “Are you saying that you didn’t know what point there was in continuing volleyball?”

“I guess, yeah.” Atsumu pushed his plate away, the quiche still mostly uneaten. “S’not like I wanna quit right now or anythin’. But I keep feelin’ like I should have somethin’ I’m working towards. Like Samu—did you know Samu has an onigiri business now?”

“Is that so?” Hinata hedged.

“Yup. He’s only got one restaurant right now, but he wants to open lots more, like in Tokyo and stuff. That’s his goal. He wants to make Miya Onigiri a franchise.”

“Well, food business and sports are pretty different, so you can’t expect to have a similar goal.”

“Tobio-kun has goals. He told me he wants to keep goin’ higher and higher so he can meet stronger and stronger players. That’s why he’s on the national team, and why he wants to go to the foreign leagues someday.”

“And you don’t want to?”

Atsumu shook his head. “I just wanna have fun playin’ volleyball. If you’re on the national team there’s all this pressure to uphold Japan’s pride or whatever, so you can’t get too crazy with the stuff you try.”

Hinata smiled. “Like when you and Osamu-san did the freak quick on the fly.”

Atsumu’s expression brightened. “That was seriously awesome. I wanted to do it again the next year, y’know, but even better so you and Tobio-kun couldn’t stop me. But then you weren’t there.”

Oh. Hinata remembered how unsurprised he’d been when Hinata crashed into his room. Of course this had happened before; of course Atsumu remembered. “Been a long time,” he’d said, and Hinata had assumed that he meant since Spring High.

All this time, Hinata had thought of the day where he met Atsumu again in MSBY’s gym as the beginning of their relationship. That was when their lives began to converge not by chance but by care and planning. Hinata’s path towards that day had been laid by the memory of Atsumu promising to listen and to understand. He’d been a fool to think that the path had been laid for Atsumu then, too, and not years before on the orange court. Or in this cafe, where he was staring at Hinata with undisguised longing.

Something inside Hinata’s chest twisted. Was this the reason why Atsumu had waited for him for so long? Had he said or done something here to persuade him, even if it was unintentional? Part of him had always questioned what place he had in Atsumu’s life when so much of what he brought was frustration and loneliness.

“Shouyou-kun?” Atsumu asked, reaching a hand across the table before he hesitated and laid it down, the fingertips barely brushing Hinata’s. “What’s wrong?”

It was a different place and a different time, but his concern was the same. Hinata couldn’t have planted it in him, for it had existed long before he even noticed. His throat constricted. Even if he’d made some kind of impression on Atsumu today, it was only one meeting in a thousand others; and Atsumu would meet other people, too, had already met them. This was a fleeting moment in time—like any other encounter, like a single point scored during a game, like the fraction of a second when skin met the leather of the volleyball. Profound, and yet no guarantee of the future.

“I’m okay,” he said, smiling. “Atsumu-san, can you promise me something?”

“Um, I guess? As long as it’s not somethin’ really crazy.”

Hinata shook his head. “I just want you to promise me that no matter what, you’ll do what you want. Even if you don’t know what will come of it, even if it’s not what you wanted yesterday.” On the tabletop, Hinata’s fingers were going numb. Even though the cafe had air conditioning, he was sweating. He rushed through his next words: “Even if it means leaving something you love behind, don’t be afraid to take that next step forward. It’s scary, but you’ll be okay.”

He pushed his chair back and stood up, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Wait! Where are you goin’?” Atsumu was standing as well. He looked lost.

Hinata couldn’t answer his question, so he offered him a smile instead. “Good bye, Atsumu-san. Don’t forget your promise, okay?”

“I haven’t promised ya anything! Hey, don’t just run off again without explainin’ anything. Hey! Hinata Shouyou, you bastard!”

He followed Hinata as far as the door before Hinata lost himself in the stream of people on the street making their way home. Hinata could hear his shouts until he turned down a dark side street. He leaned against the concrete wall, taking deep breaths to quell the nausea rising inside him. His fingers and toes were completely numb now. Hinata closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and waited to go home.

*

The same night that they reunited at the MSBY gym, Hinata and Atsumu got into an argument. Everything had been going well, even though the other Black Jackal team members muscled their way into the dinner invitation that Atsumu meant only for Hinata. Hinata didn’t feel any numbness or nausea at the restaurant; for a short while, he even forgot to worry about it, too caught up in Bokuto’s exclamations of delight and Atsumu’s attempts to grab his attention.

Then Atsumu kissed him in a shadowed alcove outside his hotel, and Hinata pushed him away.

Atsumu stumbled backwards into the wall. “Shit. ‘M sorry, Shouyou-kun. I thought—”

“Are you drunk?” Hinata hissed, heart thudding.

“What the fuck? No! I didn’t have a single drink. You saw me.”

Hinata had, and he’d known even as he accused him. “Then why?” 

In the dim light of a distant street lamp, Atsumu’s jaw was tight. “Do I hafta be drunk to kiss the person I like? Look, if you don’t feel the same way it’s fine. I’ll get lost.”

He turned to leave, but Hinata grabbed his sleeve. “Atsumu-san, wait. I still don’t understand. Why?”

Atsumu scrubbed a hand down his face. “I don’t how how much fuckin’ clearer I can make myself: I. Like. You.”

“I know that!”

“Then why the fuck—”

“I just meant _why_ do you like me?”

Atsumu hadn’t had a single drink, but his face in that moment was as red as if he’d downed several pints of beer. He spluttered. “Well—that’s—lots of reasons! Do I gotta list all of ‘em?”

“Considering that we’re practically strangers? Yes!”

“We’re not strangers! We’ve known each other since high school.”

“We met _once_ in high school.”

“Uh, what about that time you time travelled or whatever into my room?”

“I was there for an hour at most!”

“Didn’t stop ya from sharin’ all your woes with me.”

Hinata dropped Atsumu’s sleeve like he’d been burned. “Oh,” he said, voice frosty. “Is that what this is about, then?”

Atsumu made a strangled noise of rage. “Is this about what? You’re not makin’ any sense!”

Hinata’s hands curled into fists. “About you feeling sorry for me. Is that why you ‘like’ me? Because you think I need to be taken care of?”

Amazingly, Atsumu was struck silent. Hinata squeezed his fists tighter to stop his hands from shaking. There. He’d said it loud for the both of them. Now all Atsumu had to do was confirm it and they could be on their separate ways. The warmth from dinner had faded away completely. His stomach hurt.

At long last Atsumu laughed, bitter and humorless. “You’re a real piece of work, Shouyou-kun.”

They were standing only inches apart, but Hinata felt as if they were communicating across a distance so vast it garbled all their words. “What? What are you saying?”

“Do I feel sorry for you? I mean, I guess a little bit, yeah! It sucks to be sick and to lose something you love ‘cause of it, and it sucks that nobody else knows what you’re goin’ through so you gotta do it alone.

“But that’s not why I like you. I like you ‘cause you’re cute and a cheeky bastard even though you pretend like you’re not. I like you ‘cause you don’t back down from a challenge. I like you ‘cause whatever I want, I want it with all I’ve got, and until I met you I thought I was the only one.”

The street light illuminated Atsumu’s eyes. When he blinked, Hinata realized that his eyelashes were wet. “Atsumu-san,” he said. He wanted to reach out to him, but he felt rooted to the spot.

Atsumu ground the heels of his hands against his eyes and let out a deep sigh. His voice was hoarse as he said, “If you don’t like me, that’s okay. If you do but you’re scared ‘cause you don’t know if it’s gonna work out, that’s okay too. I’ll leave if ya tell me to. But don’t push me away by sayin’ that my feelings aren’t real or whatever. That’s just fuckin’ unfair.”

Hinata thought he’d done the difficult work in bringing out the truth, but in the end it was Atsumu who’d laid him bare. “I’m sorry,” he said, fists unclenching.

“Whatever. Wait. Are ya cryin’?” Atsumu waved his hands frantically, his anger evaporating as quickly as it had come. “Wait, Shouyou-kun, don’t cry! You said sorry so it’s okay. I mean, you don’t even gotta be that sorry!”

Hinata had never seen him so flustered. His eyes were bloodshot and starting to puff and his hairspray had melted away at last, leaving his combover to collapse in a sweep across his forehead. Through the blurry veil of his tears, Hinata saw that Atsumu’s roots were showing. It was the cherry on top of how ridiculous he looked, so Hinata laughed.

“Seriously, are you okay? Is it somethin’ I said? I’m sorry! Wait, no, I’m not sorry ‘cause I meant what I said, but I don’t want you to be sad, so I guess I’m sorry for that.”

“Atsumu-san,” Hinata croaked, “you’re actually kind of simple, aren’t you?”

“What the fuck!”

Hinata wiped his tears away and looked at Atsumu. Even though he was frowning, which made him look even more ridiculous, he was still handsome. Hinata wanted to run his hands through his hair and stroke the pad of his thumb over the hint of stubble growing on his chin. He wanted to press his nose to the soft flannel of his shirt so he could feel the heat of his skin and memorize the scent of the cologne he wore. He wanted more things than he could list, but most of all he wanted to be back in the safety and comfort of Atsumu’s room and to know that this time, he was staying.

“I still haven’t told you why I didn’t come see you until now,” he said.

“Uh, I don’t think that matters anymore, Shouyou-kun.”

“It does matter. I didn’t come see you because I was afraid. It wasn’t because I thought you didn’t want to see me. Well, I did consider that, but it wasn’t the scariest thing.” Hinata took a deep breath and let it out. His stomach hurt less, and though he was still on edge, it was because for the first time in a long time he was reaching for something.

“The scariest thing was not knowing what would happen if you did want me. Then I wouldn’t be able to walk away. I’d want to hold onto you no matter what.”

“Okay, maybe I am simple, but isn’t that a _good_ thing? We like each other. We want to be together. What’s so scary about that?”

Despite his confusion, Atsumu’s expression had brightened with hope. He was so easy to read. Hinata’s heart ached.

“What happens after we get together? It’s not going to be easy with my…condition. I’ve got it mostly under control now, but I’ll still be gone a lot and there’ll rarely be any warning. You won’t know how long I’ll be gone either. It could be hours, or it could be days.”

“Then I’ll wait. S’not like I don’t got things to keep me busy ’til you’re back!”

Hinata was beginning to understand that once Atsumu decided on something, he would see it through to the end. That was exactly what Hinata was afraid of.

“What if you get tired of it? No, don’t say you won’t. Think about it. It’s not just the waiting. It’s everything else that comes with a relationship. I mean, what about your career? You’re going to have to keep us a secret, and I already know that you’ll hate that. What if it’s too much on top of dealing with me going away all the time? What if you start resenting me?”

Atsumu sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, Shouyou-kun, I get what you’re sayin’, or at least I think I do. But those are a whole lotta ‘what ifs,’ and isn’t every choice we make full of those? All we can do is decide what we wanna do now, and what I wanna do now is be with you.”

He really did want with everything he had. A long time ago, Hinata had, too. All he could see was what was right in front of him, what was just out of reach, and he wanted it so badly that he crashed before he even realized. He’d been trying to find his footing ever since.

He didn’t know how to tell Atsumu what it felt like to slip from place to place, from time to time. How to explain that once, he’d taken tomorrow for granted and now he measured what he had in hours. So all he said was, “I’m trying not to want as much anymore.”

Atsumu’s mouth turned down. “Yeah, and how’s that workin’ out for ya?”

Hinata’s eyes burned with new tears. Atsumu swore and closed the distance between them, pulling Hinata into his arms. He held him loosely so that Hinata had the option to leave if he wanted. Hinata stayed, though, because despite his harsh words Atsumu’s embrace was warm.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled over Hinata’s head. “That was really shitty of me. You can hit me if you want.”

For the second time that night, Hinata laughed. He leaned his forehead against Atsumu’s chest. The flannel of his shirt really was soft. It smelled faintly of smoke from the restaurant and, underneath that, of his cologne: something warm and fruity, like apricots. Somehow, Hinata hadn’t expected that of him.

“Atsumu-san, why would I hit you?”

“Uh, ‘cause I said somethin’ mean?”

“It was mean, but that doesn’t mean I want to hit you. Besides, I guess I kind of needed the wake-up call.” He bunched his hands in the hem of Atsumu’s shirt, holding onto him. “It’s not working out for me. At all. And I think I’d be really, really unhappy if I let you walk away from me right now.”

“Then don’t,” Atsumu said quietly. “You don’t gotta think about what’ll happen tomorrow, or next week, or next year. Right now, all you’ve gotta do is take the next step forward. Everything else we can figure out as it comes.”

His heartbeat was strong and steady. It was strange to think that someone who was so wild on the court could be steady, but then again, maybe it was steadiness that kept him on his feet even as he dashed ahead of everyone else. Hinata leaned his whole body into the solid weight of Atsumu, and stayed.

*

When Hinata was twenty-six and Atsumu twenty-seven, Atsumu finally confessed to Hinata that the reason he tossed and turned so much at night lately was because of chronic pain in his lower back. Hinata rushed him to the doctor’s office, where he tried not to lose his mind as the physician laboriously dug it out from Atsumu that the pain radiated down his legs and numbed his ankles. A scan revealed a herniated disc in his spine, and Atsumu was promptly put on medical leave.

He sulked around the apartment for days until his therapist suggested that he take up a non-intensive hobby. Somehow he settled on gardening, and instead of raising a succulent or some other house plant, he began cultivating a miniature herb garden. Even after he completed the required period of rest and physical therapy, he continued to tend to his plants. Soon they were overruning what little free space there was in the apartment.

When Hinata accidentally knocked a pot over, spilling soil into the miso soup he was making, he complained to Atsumu and Atsumu said, “Okay, let’s buy a house then.”And just like that, they moved from their cramped apartment in Osaka to a moderately-sized home in nearby Amagasaki with a tiny slab of concrete and bare earth in the back.

It felt sudden to Hinata, at least. In reality the move had happened in starts and fits, with Hinata dragging his feet on finding a house and then his time travelling worsening for a while so that he was gone more than he was present. He disappeared the night before they were supposed to move in. By the time he returned to the present—outside their old apartment building, thankfully, and not in the now-empty unit—and made it to the house in Amagasaki, the furniture was set up and Atsumu was planting seedlings in the backyard.

When Hinata’s footsteps creaked on the back porch’s wooden floorboards, he whirled around, a seedling cupped in his dirt-caked hands. It always drove Hinata up the wall that he refused to wear the gardening gloves he’d bought for him. He didn’t care in that moment, though. He ran the rest of the way to Atsumu, throwing his arms around his waist and burying his face against his chest.

“Whoa, whoa, Shou-kun! I’m dirty! Not that I’m not happy to see you or anythin’.”

“I’m dirty too,” Hinata mumbled. “I landed way too close to the compost bin outside our old building.”

“Oh, wow. Bet people really avoided ya on the train.”

Hinata slapped Atsumu’s shoulder, and they both burst into laughter. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be here to help you. Is your back okay?”

“S’fine. I got Samu to do most of the heavy liftin’, and Aran-kun came too. We got it done in no time.”

“Still—”

Atsumu held the seedling in one hand and tilted Hinata’s chin up with the tip of his finger. “Nuh uh. No gettin’ mopey. You’re back now, so you gotta be with me one hundred percent.”

Hinata breathed in shakily. “Okay. Okay.”

Whatever regrets Hinata was holding onto melted away under a stream of hot water as he and Atsumu showered together. When they got out, Atsumu pressed him against the edge of the sink and kissed him. Hinata gasped, dizzy from the steam and from how long it had been since he’d felt Atsumu’s touch. Even though he was usually against sex in the bathroom—too slippery, and his knees got wobbly—he let Atsumu lick into his mouth.

“Tsumu-san,” he sighed when Atsumu stopped sucking on his tongue to bite hickeys down his neck.

“Mmm, yeah, keep sayin’ my name like that and I’ll give ya a really good housewarming present,” Atsumu said, and pulled off the towel that Hinata had wrapped around his waist.

By the time Atsumu got off his knees, the steam had dissipated and Hinata’s knuckles ached from how tightly he’d clutched onto the edge of the sink.

“Good housewarming present?” Atsumu asked. His smile was smug. 

“Are you supposed to give a housewarming present if you also live here?”

“Huh. Welcome home present then?”

Hinata grabbed the towel draped around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. “Okay, fine,” he said when they pulled apart. “I can accept that.”

After dinner, which Hinata insisted on making, they took a plate of watermelon slices to the back porch so they could enjoy the evening breeze. Atsumu stretched out on his back, pillowing his head with his arms. He opened his mouth wide and looked significantly at the watermelon slices, then at Hinata.

Hinata sighed and broke off a piece of watermelon to feed him. “You’re spoiled.”

Atsumu chewed and swallowed noisily. “It’s to make up for doin’ all the movin’ today.”

Hinata snorted. “You lifted heavy boxes all day but you think it’s fair if I feed you some watermelon?”

“You also made dinner. Oh, and ya put out.”

Hinata jammed a large piece into Atsumu’s mouth and laughed as Atsumu glared and chewed viciously, juice dribbling down his chin. Hinata leaned down to kiss it away. Atsumu’s skin was cool against his lips.

He pulled away, murmuring, “You’re ridiculous. Are you really happy with just this?”

“‘Course. Since I don’t know when you’ll be gone, any time that I get to be with you is the best. ‘Specially if you’re spoilin’ me.”

“Don’t you get sad about all the time we could have had, though? I do. I really wanted to be here today so we could step through the door for the first time together. We can’t take that moment back.”

Atsumu shrugged. “So? We’ve done plenty of things for the first time together, and we’ll do more in the future. Maybe we’ll even buy another house, and we can step through that door together.”

Hinata stared down at him in wonder. He was always solidly in the present. He carried no undue nostalgia for the past, and even when he was afraid of the future he decided to ignore it and look instead at what he needed to do in that moment.

“Tsumu-san, how does time work for you?”

“Huh?”

“I mean…what do you think of time? I always think of it like sand falling through my fingers. Even if I can go back to the past, it’s not like I can re-live it or change anything. All I can do is watch, and the time I spend doing that is time that I lose in the present.”

Atsumu’s forehead wrinkled. He always gave Hinata’s questions serious thought, even if he didn’t understand where they were coming from. It was one of the things Hinata loved most about him.

“I dunno. Doesn’t time just…happen? Hey, don’t laugh! S’not like I’ve thought about it a lot before or anythin’.”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry I asked. You don’t have to answer.”

“No! Now I’m gonna give you a great answer!”

He frowned even more deeply, ignoring Hinata when he poked his forehead and told him that he would wrinkle. All was silent for a few minutes except for the rasp of cicadas and the rustle of leaves in the breeze. The scent of mulch and compost permeated the air. Atsumu had given his full-grown plants to neighbors before they moved because it would be too troublesome to transport them all, but he’d saved cuttings from them and coaxed them into new seedlings that he could carry in small containers. Hinata looked forward to the day when they could start harvesting from them. Maybe he would make shiso-wrapped meatballs; they could grill them on the porch.

A soft snore alerted him to the fact that Atsumu had dozed off in the middle of thinking. Hinata stroked his hair off his forehead and said, “Tsumu-san, wake up. Your back’s going to hurt if you sleep out here.”

Atsumu jerked awake, his eyes still droopy. “I wasn’t sleepin’.”

“Okay, Tsumu-san.”

“I wasn’t! I was thinkin’. I’ve even got an answer.”

“Is that so? Please tell me.”

“Okay, so—” Atsumu broke off on a yawn. He sat up and stretched, his shirt stretching over his broad shoulders. “I thought about what you said, and I figured…even when you travel to the past, isn’t that still your present?”

“Huh?” It was Hinata’s turn to be confused.

Atsumu leaned forward, eyes bright now that he was warming to the subject. “You said time’s like sand fallin’ through your fingers. I think it’s like a circle. There’s a past and a present and a future, but they’re points on a circle, not a line. Even if you travel to last week or last year or whatever, it’s not like you’re just recallin’ a memory. You’re actually there. You’re actually seein’ and smellin’ and hearin’ stuff as they happen to you. Isn’t that also your present? So you’re not losin’ anything! You go and you come back, and you’ve still got tomorrow.”

Hinata grabbed Atsumu’s face in both hands, fondness and laughter bubbling up in his chest. “Tsumu-san, has anyone ever told you that you’re a genius?”

Atsumu blinked in confusion, before a lopsided smile spread across his face. “Nah. As I recall, someone once said that I’m really simple. But you can keep tellin’ me I’m a genius, if you want.”

Hinata kissed him firmly. “You _are_ really simple. That’s what makes you a genius.”

“What!”

“Thank you. For what you said. It cheered me up a lot.”

“Wait. Really?”

“Yes, really. It made me think that I should tell you about what I do when I’m gone. If you want to hear about it, of course.”

Atsumu stroked Hinata’s cheek with his fingers. He was looking at him with his full attention, like he didn’t want to miss a single thing. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I’d love to hear about it.”

Hinata scooted closer to Atsumu, and Atsumu wrapped an arm around his shoulders. They sat there in the garden as the night grew darker, and Hinata told Atsumu about the places he’d gone and the food he’d eaten. They talked long past the hour when Hinata would have shooed them to bed, but Hinata decided that every once in a while, that was okay. They had more than enough time.

*

Hinata’s foot found solid ground again, and the bluriness slowly resolved into the familiar environs of his and Atsumu’s home in Amagasaki. It was early evening, and he was in the garden. Atsumu’s plants had flourished in the three years that they’d lived here; they stood over a foot tall now, dense and fragrant with leaves and flowers that attracted bees.

Hinata’s stomach grumbled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten much over the entire day that he’d been gone. He picked up the basket that always lay on the porch and plucked the larger leaves from the shiso plant.

Then he stepped quietly through the sliding door and into the living room, where he saw Atsumu sprawled out and snoring gently on the sofa. On the coffee table next to him was a bento from the conbini and a half-empty glass of plum juice. Was that all that he’d eaten? Hinata clucked his tongue and set the basket on the kitchen counter before he came to kneel beside Atsumu.

He kissed Atsumu’s forehead and watched fondly as Atsumu struggled to open his eyes. “Tsumu-san,” he said, “wake up. I’m home, and it’s time for dinner.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy AtsuHina Day 2020! I started writing this story on a whim. "It'll be short," I thought. "It'll be fun!" 9K words later, I am regretti spaghetti. Well, not really, because I put my heart into this story and it gave it back to me full.
> 
> No story is conceived in a vacuum. This one is the result of months of talking about AtsuHina's dynamic, but it is also the product of other narratives about loss, trauma, healing, love, and of course, time. When I came up with Atsumu's "time is a circle" speech, I was thinking about the scene in Netflix's The Haunting of Hill House where Nell says, "Our moments fall around us like rain. Or... snow. Or confetti. You were right. We have been in this room. So many times and we didn't know." As I wrote it, I thought about "Time Adventure" from Adventure Time (it's on the playlist!): "Time is an illusion that helps things make sense/So we are always living in the present tense." The mood of this story draws heavily on IU's "above the time," especially the music video, which is so lovely and ethereal. The title of this story comes from the lyrics: "If we can stand outside the borders of time/Without stepping on the past/I will dance till I run out of breath." 
> 
> It would be dishonest not to mention The Time Traveler's Wife. I loved the book when I was younger, but when I became an adult I realized that Henry's interactions with Claire are nothing more or less than grooming. So if the book played a hand in this story, it was in motivating me to write a dynamic where Atsumu and Hinata are equals who influence and are influenced by each other in turn, but who are ultimately their own person. It is not fate that brings them together, but their independent choices. 
> 
> There are much more personal sources for this story as well. All I will say is that this couldn't have come together without my wife and the choices and chances that have brought us to where we are today. Thank you for always growing by my side. 
> 
> As always, thank you to those who read to the end. If you liked it, please leave a kudo! All your comments are cherished. You can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ninetalesk), where I'll be crying about how Haikyuu!! will never truly end.


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